Today, I'm Just Irene
by HiddenValor
Summary: Companion piece to My Gabriel, Not You. Irene Barlow's life changed for the worst when she married the President of the United States. All she can do now is hope she can do the right thing. Warning: OC pairings. Set during Five Years Gone. Complete!
1. Today, I'm Just Irene

A/N: This is a companion piece to my other Heroes story "My Gabriel, Not You." This story takes place during Five Years Gone. If you read my other story, Sylar says to Irene Barlow (my OC): "I don't know if I could make a good president unless I had you as my First Lady." That gave me an idea: what if Sylar had taken Irene as his First Lady when he became President as Nathan Petrelli?

Keep in mind that this story is intended to read like you're watching an episode.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Heroes_, but Irene belongs to me.

XxxXxx

_Isaac Mendez's loft, Manhattan, November 6, 2009…_

Irene Petrelli gently pushed open the door to the loft. "Hiro," she called into the dark room. She hugged her khaki jacket tighter around her to shield herself from the chill and descended the small set of stairs in front of the door. She liked her jacket, tee shirt, blue jeans, and ponytail; it was a nice break from the stuffy suits and tight-pinned buns she had to wear in Washington. Today, she just wanted to be Irene, not First Lady Petrelli. "Hiro Nakamura," she called again. "It's Irene."

"Were you followed?" Hiro's solemn voice wafted through the loft. He emerged from the bedroom on the left side, dressed entirely in black and sword slung across his back.

Irene shook her head. "What is so important that I had to lie to everyone in Washington so I could come see you? Do you know how difficult it was for me to get away from the Secret Service?" She stood near the stairs, out of the way of the large map of strings spanning the room, and planted her hands on her hips.

"I simply thought you should be informed of my progress."

"It had better be good."

Hiro plunged into the midst of the string map and beckoned her to follow. He pointed to several points of convergence in the map. "In our past, I tried to kill Sylar, but he was able to regenerate because he had taken that power from Claire Bennet, the cheerleader from Texas. I believe that if she can be saved, then we will have some chance of undoing what has happened. In order to do that, however, I need to find the right person at the right moment in the past who can save her. So far, I've narrowed down the list of dates to merely a handful, and I believe Peter Petrelli to be the one we need."

"That's all good for me to know, but how do I fit in to all of this? What's the real reason you dragged me up here?"

Hiro slowly paced a few steps back and forth, trying to find the right words. "I know that Dr. Suresh is working for the President for a way to reverse our condition. I need you to keep an eye on him so I can focus more on taking care of this mess." He gestured toward the strings around him, particularly to the black string—Sylar's string.

Irene unconsciously fiddled with a strand of brown hair from her ponytail, while Hiro waited patiently for her to say something. She was still skeptical. It seemed like a ray of sunshine in these dark times, but the actual plan was shaky at best, not to mention vague. She didn't understand much about the physics of time travel, but she did understand that the consequences of changing the flow of time could be disastrous. In fact, even collaborating with a terrorist such as Nakamura like she was doing right now could be disastrous. If Nathan ever found out…Irene hardly wanted to think about it. All she could do now was hope that she was doing the right thing.

"All right, I'll do it," she said quietly.

"Thank you." Hiro managed a small smile, a thing Irene had rarely seen in the few years she had collaborated with him.

Irene turned to leave. "Hiro," she said as she went to the door of the loft. "You've killed lots of people. You're a terrorist and an enemy of the State." She looked over her shoulder to him. "I'm only helping you now because I believe you can fix this. Don't disappoint me." She left without looking back to see his response.

XxXxXXx

A/N: In case you're wondering about the timeline of this story, Sylar married Irene about a year after he became President. She's been working with Hiro Nakamura ever since then. If you read my other story, you're probably thinking, "Why did she marry Sylar after what he did?" Well, you'll soon find out.

A/N (5/16): Okay, I've written all of the chapters and revised them. I'll be posting the completed story shortly.


	2. Trying to Get Over It

_The White House, Washington D.C., 2010_

Irene softly rapped on the door to the Lincoln Bedroom. She waited patiently for a few moments and then knocked again. "Dr. Suresh," she said through the door. "It's Mrs. Petrelli."

The door opened, and Mohinder Suresh stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a pair of khaki slacks and an un-tucked white shirt with thin blue stripes on it. He wore a pair of round glasses that tended to slip down his nose every few minutes; he looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days. "Mrs. Petrelli," he said with a smile. "I wasn't expecting to see you." His teeth were almost perfectly white, a sharp contrast to his chocolate brown skin. "I would have been more appropriately dressed if I had known you were coming to see me."

"This is merely a social call. You don't need to worry about the formalities when you're with me." Irene smiled back at him. "May I come in?"

Mohinder nodded and opened the door wider to let her through. Two Secret Service agents planted themselves on either side of the door in case of an emergency. Irene shrugged her blue suit jacket off her shoulders and laid it on a velvet-cushioned armchair close by.

The Lincoln Bedroom was—Irene thought—the loveliest of all the guest rooms in the White House; if she had her way, this would be her room instead of Mohinder's. It was kept as authentic as possible in spirit with the couple that had lived there. The walls were a lovely shade of cream that complimented the bold colors of the bedspread on the canopy bed. The room itself was very spacious and comfortable to suit anyone's fancy. A large window in the far wall allowed the occupant a spectacular view of Washington D.C.

On this particular afternoon, however, the curtains were only partially open and the bed had not been made. Mohinder never really was too concerned about being neat and tidy. Irene sat in a chair close to the bed and crossed one leg over the other; she adjusted her blue skirt so that she wasn't showing so much leg. An open laptop computer sat on a mahogany-stained wooden desk a few feet to Irene's left. Before saying another word to her, Mohinder went to the computer and closed it, as if to keep her prying eyes out of it.

"So," he sat down in the rolling desk chair and faced her. "To what do I owe this sudden visit?"

"Can't a girl just drop in to say 'hello'?" Irene asked with a half-smile.

"In a world full of ulterior motives, a visit like that is very rare." His face immediately sobered, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why are you really here, Irene?"

Irene sighed and looked away. "I understand why you don't trust me, Mohinder, but—"

"I do trust you, Irene," he interjected. "But I'm sure how much I can trust you anymore. The last I remember, you were in quite a hurry to leave—without so much as a goodbye, I might add." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice; Irene inwardly cringed, knowing that she was the cause of it. Without realizing it, she had done the same thing to Mohinder that Gabriel had done to her just a few years ago; it had seemed like an eternity since that had happened. In fact, she had almost forgotten about it.

"You don't know the whole story, Mohinder," she retorted, trying not to get defensive.

"Then tell me," he replied, getting quite defensive himself.

"I…I can't," she whispered.

Mohinder's face became more irritated, and his words became more animated. "Was it me? Was it you? Well, obviously, it was another man because you married the President a week afterwards. A week, Irene! Did you even bother to _try _to get over me first?"

"This was a mistake," Irene muttered angrily and got up to pick up her jacket. Mohinder stood and gently grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. Now isn't the time to talk about those things."

Irene took a deep breath and decided to change the subject, though she wished so badly to tell him the truth. "No, I'm the one who should be apologizing." She gently pulled her arm away from him and draped her jacket over it. "You were right; I wasn't here just to say hello."

"Then what do you want?"

There were several things she could have said, but she pushed them all to the back of her mind. Mohinder looked away and covered his mouth to hide his smirk, realizing what he had just asked. Irene laughed softly and tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear; it had escaped from the tight French pleat on the back of her head. Jeez, those pins hurt her scalp. At least both of them were smiling again. It was hard not to—around Mohinder, at least.

"I just wanted to know how your research was going," she said finally.

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Is that all? Oh, well, you should have said so."

"Well, I didn't want to pry."

"It's no problem," he said with a smile. "My research is going…just fine. I'm making a lot of progress."

"Mohinder," Irene smirked. "You've always been a terrible liar, and working for the President hasn't made that any better." She took a step closer to him and added quietly, "I have the security clearance, but no one will bother to tell me anything. If I'm going to help Nathan run the country, I should probably be informed about most of what's going on. Don't you think so?" She lifted her eyebrows and pressed her lips together to emphasize her point.

Mohinder looked away and gently scratched his beard. "To be honest," he replied softly. "I'm not getting anywhere." He sighed and massaged the back of his neck. "I just don't know how to tell Nathan."

"I have full confidence in you, Mohinder," she replied, matching the softness of his voice. Their faces were mere inches apart; tension hung thick between them. Without thinking, Irene kissed him lightly on the lips. She quickly pulled away and straightened. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have done that." She hastily went to the door and left the room without looking back.

"Irene!" Mohinder called, but she ignored him.

She walked swiftly past the SS agents who started following her to her office. She gently rubbed her temples and went inside without a word to anybody. People passed her in the hallway, but thought better of saying anything to her. She closed the door to her office and locked it behind her. She plopped into her desk chair and swore under her breath. This was going to be a long day.


	3. Treason Close to Home

_The White House, Washington, D.C., November 7, 2011…_

Irene sat quietly in the Red Room on the second floor of the White House, elbows leaning on the desk in front of her. When she had moved in to the White House after marrying President Petrelli, she had commissioned this room as her own private office. The only pieces of furniture in the room were her desk and chair, and two other chairs in front of the desk. The walls and carpet, obviously, were red in color. An ornate fireplace graced the right-most wall. Paintings from artists all around the world decorated each wall.

An open laptop computer sat on the desk with Outlook Express running, but the message page was blank. Irene pondered for a few moments, and then began to type an email.

Before she could finish the first sentence, however, the intercom on her office phone began to beep. She picked up the phone. "Yes?" she replied. "Send him in." She closed her laptop as Officer Matt Parkman of Homeland Security entered her office. He was dressed in a long black coat that he wore over a blue Oxford shirt and black slacks.

Irene had always wondered about Parkman. He looked much too old for his real age. His hair was graying at the temples, and he seemed to have gained some wrinkles as well as extra weight. "What can I do for you, Mr. Parkman?" she asked and leaned into the back of her chair.

"I'd just like to ask you a few questions, Mrs. Petrelli." He seemed a little on edge, like he would crack at the slightest movement, but he still treated the First Lady with gentleness and respect.

"Certainly," Irene replied. "Please, sit down."

He sat down and let his shoulders slump. This really wasn't like Parkman at all. "Mrs. Petrelli," he began, looking away before continuing. "I need you to be completely honest with me. I don't want to use my ability unless I have to."

"Then ask your questions. I'm not hiding anything."

"Okay then." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair he sat in. "What connections do you have to Hiro Nakamura?"

Irene's breath caught in her throat. She needed to keep calm. Keep calm. She set her thin face as expressionless as she could, especially her brown eyes. She couldn't let any emotion show. She knew that a façade like that would not work against Parkman, but she did it anyway as a self-defense mechanism. "Why would you ask me that?"

Parkman looked irritated. "Please answer the question, Mrs. Petrelli." He narrowed his eyes, but refrained from using his ability.

"I've only seen him in the news." She hoped he couldn't see through her lie.

Parkman closed his eyes and sighed. "I was hoping you wouldn't say that." He reached into his coat and pulled a folded piece of paper from an inside pocket. He unfolded the paper and placed it on the desk. It was a photograph of Irene—dressed in jeans, a tee shirt, and a khaki jacket—walking down a deserted street at night. "This picture was found in a tabloid and then turned in to me. It was taken in Manhattan. Can you explain it?"

Irene looked at the photograph and then at the floor next to Parkman's chair. She looked up again and answered, "I don't wear jeans anymore, Mr. Parkman. Even here in the White house I only wear suits like the black one I'm wearing now. Your paparazzi must be mistaken. And besides, I used to live in New York. If this is me, then this could have been taken at any time before I moved here."

"It was taken two years ago."

Irene didn't reply.

Parkman continued, "I also have reason to believe that Nakamura is based in New York, but I don't know exactly where." His expression began to sour, but his demeanor remained somewhat gentle. "You're hiding something from me, Mrs. Petrelli. If you don't cooperate and I find you are collaborating with Hiro Nakamura, I could arrest you for treason. Irene, you know that the penalty for treason is death."

"Yes, I know what the hell it is, Parkman!" Irene exclaimed and stood angrily. She folded her arms over her chest and went to the window on the opposite side of the room. One section of the red curtains had been pulled away and fastened. Outside was a breathtaking view of D.C. in the chill November dusk. Parkman followed her to the window.

What was she supposed to do? She weighed the options in her mind, but each one was less promising than the next. If she turned in Hiro of her own accord, she could effectively cut off any hope of undoing the past. If she did not cooperate, Parkman would rip it out of her anyway and have her executed for treason. Either way, Hiro got the short end of the stick. She would have to come up with a plan to make sure he didn't.

"If I tell you where he is, do you swear to leave me alone?" she asked with a sting of bitterness. She hated herself for what she was about to do.

"Yes."

There was pause. Tension hung thick in the air.

"He's at Isaac Mendez's old loft in Manhattan," she replied quietly. She stalked to her chair, plopped heavily into it, and leaned her head on her hand. She felt her cheeks begin to flush with the emotional stress.

Parkman opened his mouth to say something, but Irene cut him off.

"Just go away," she said and waved him away with her free hand. Parkman nodded and promptly left. Irene covered her face with her hands and let a few tears escape her eyes. After a few moments, she wiped them away and composed herself.

She opened her computer and hastily typed an email. She clicked on "Send" and quickly shut down her computer. She huffed with displeasure and crossed her arms in irritation. Damn these politics.

XxXxXx

Matt Parkman pressed the speed dial on his cell phone and put the phone to his ear as he swiftly made his way through the White House to the back exit. "Yes, sir," he said into the phone. "Your suspicions were correct. She is working with Nakamura, and she gave me his whereabouts without a struggle." A pause. "I'll be on the next flight to New York." Another pause. "I will, sir. Thank you, Mr. President."

XxXxXx

_The White House, Washington D.C., That evening…_

Irene did not look up from her book when her husband quietly entered the bedroom. Nathan Petrelli shut the door behind him and stole a glance at Irene before changing into his pajamas. She sat on the queen-sized bed, up against the headboard and under the comforter. She was dressed in blue flannel pajamas and had pulled her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck.

"Did you have a good day?" she asked without looking up. She turned the page of her book, seemingly more interested in it than in him.

Nathan loosened his tie and went to the bureau to retrieve his pajamas. He was unbuttoning his shirt as he answered, "Yes, actually. I learned the whereabouts of Hiro Nakamura today; he will be taken into custody tomorrow."

Irene blinked twice and swallowed. "That's great," she said, completely without enthusiasm. She hoped Hiro would have enough sense to heed her warning.

Nathan finished changing into his black silk pajamas before making another comment. He sat on the edge of Irene's side of the bed and straddled Irene's legs with the side of his body and his arm. "I suppose I have you to thank for that. I—"

"Please, don't," she said before he could continue.

"Irene, please—"

"Stop."

Nathan sighed, walked around the bed, and sat up against the headboard on his side. "Please don't be like that, Irene. Don't act like I was the one who blew up New York City."

Irene glared at him, slammed her book closed and set it on the bed stand, and lay on her side—away from Nathan. "Don't act like you didn't," she muttered under her breath; but Nathan heard her. He glanced sideways toward her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"It hurts me to hear you talk like that, Irene. You know I love you, but—"

"No, you don't."

"Stop interrupting me!" Nathan bellowed and squeezed Irene's shoulder with so much force that he almost pushed it out of joint; his face contorted into anger for a moment, but Irene's soft crying calmed him down. He lay next to her and wrapped an arm around her. "Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"You don't love me," she said softly. A few tears slid down her face and wet her pillow.

"What?"

"Gabriel Gray loved me." Her expression suddenly hardened. "And as far as I'm concerned, you murdered him just like you murdered the real Nathan Petrelli." She wrenched herself from his grip and got up from the bed. She grabbed a black robe from her closet and went to the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Nathan hastily got up from the bed and followed her.

"To another room. I can't sleep in the same bed with you anymore." She shrugged on the robe and tied it around her waist. Before she could get out the door, however, Nathan planted himself between it and her. He looked irritated.

"I think I've been more than reasonable, Irene. I decided not to charge you with treason, and this is how you repay me?" He crossed his arms over his chest. The air around him began to ripple like water; he was dropping his illusion. The visage of the square-jawed Nathan Petrelli dissolved into the long-faced Gabriel Gray, who the rest of the world knew as Sylar.

"Get out of my way," Irene said as strongly as she could.

Sylar got right in her face and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "You know I could kill you right now if I wanted to," he whispered.

Irene could see the sparks of anger and hatred in his eyes; she felt her resolve begin to dissipate, but she still tried to hold her own. "But you won't. You love me, remember?" She tried to push him away, but he grabbed her by the arms and held her tight.

"Don't underestimate me," he said. His face and eyes darkened, giving him the creepy expression of a madman. "You may feel safe, but your precious Mohinder isn't unless you straighten up. Yes, I know you've been visiting him lately—a little more often than I am comfortable with. Do you remember our agreement?"

Irene's expression went completely blank. She nodded numbly. Her chin began to quiver and tears began to glisten in her brown eyes. Without another word, she climbed into bed and turned off the lamp on her bed stand. Sylar put on his illusion as Nathan and got into bed. "Speaking of Dr. Suresh," he said triumphantly. "He's found a cure. Isn't that great?" When she didn't answer, he leaned over Irene and kissed her cheek. "Good night, Babe," he whispered and then rolled over to his side of the bed. He fell asleep with a wicked smile on his face.

Irene wept silently for a long time before she was able to fall asleep. Even then, it was far from peaceful.

XxXxXx

A/N: The plot thickens, eh?


	4. Trust Me, This Future Sucks

A/N: I want to warn you that there is mention of implied noncon in this chapter. It's not descriptive or graphic, but it is mentioned in passing. You probably could bypass this chapter if you wanted to, but you might get a little confused in the next chapter.

XxxXxxX

_Isaac Mendez's loft, Manhattan, New York, November 8, 2011_

Hiro Nakamura frowned. Why was the light on in the loft? He had turned it off when he had left. He quietly stalked up the fire escape and entered the loft through a window in the bedroom. He was shielded from view by the main room by the shadow of the partition between the bedroom and the main room. Before he stepped out of the darkness, however, he noticed a notification of incoming mail on his computer. He went to it and opened the message. It was from Irene.

_Get out of New York. Now._

That could only mean that Homeland Security had found out where he was. He needed to get out, and fast; but first he needed to take care of the disturbance in his loft.

He withdrew his sword from its sheath and stepped out of the darkness. He drew back in surprise at what he saw.

"You."

XxxXxx

_Petrelli Mansion, Manhattan, November 8, 2011_

Irene stood in front of the large fireplace, looking at the pictures on the mantle, but not really paying attention to them. Her mind lingered on the dispute she had with Nathan the night before. Almost every night turned out like that; it usually happened because Irene could not keep her mouth shut about Gabriel.

Last night, however, was a picnic compared to some. There had been a few nights when Sylar had forced himself on her to put her into submission; she would much rather not think about them, let alone the possibility that a child might come as a result.

Irene hated Sylar with every fiber of her being for everything he had put her through, and that was saying a lot.

There was a soft rustle behind her. Without turning around, she addressed the figure that had appeared in the room. "Hello, Peter. Long time no see."

"Irene," Peter greeted solemnly. "It's good to see you again."

Irene turned around and smiled. Peter Petrelli was just as handsome as she remembered, even with the long scar across his face. He still had that same crooked mouth and the same dark eyes. He was dressed in black—as usual—and his hair had been slicked back. "You look good," she said.

"So do you," he replied and smiled crookedly, though still slightly uneasy.

Irene looked down at herself—at her Ramones tee shirt and jeans, and shrugged her shoulders. "I've been better." She looked up at him and put on a more serious expression. "Peter, can you take us somewhere more private? I need to talk to you without these suffocating Secret Service men around."

Peter nodded and laid a hand on her shoulder. He screwed his eyes shut and concentrated as hard as he could. In a moment, the pair was standing on the roof of the Deveaux building. Newspapers and trash littered the ground under their feet. A few pigeons sat perched on the edge of the aging brick hedges surrounding them. The air was crisp and chill; Irene hugged her favorite khaki jacket closer to her body to shield herself from the breeze.

"What is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Peter asked.

Irene folded her arms over her chest. "Hiro was captured early this morning. Parkman's taken him in for questioning."

Peter looked at her incredulously. "What are you talking about? I saw Hiro and Ando in Vegas just a few hours ago. Niki sent them off to Bennet down in Texas."

Irene furrowed her brow and unconsciously started biting her lip. "Hiro can travel through time. Could it be possible that there are two Hiros, one from the past and one from this time?"

Peter considered the possibility for a few moments before answering. "You're probably right. The Hiro I saw today was definitely the one from this present—"

"Then Past Hiro must have been captured," she interjected. She swore under her breath and planted her hands on her hips. "We've got to get him out."

"Wait, 'we'?"

"Yeah," Irene retorted. She crossed her arms and glared. "I may not have any abilities, but I _am _the First Lady. Hell, I'm the most powerful woman in the country. I'm not completely incompetent."

"I never said you were incompetent."

"Yeah, but you sure think so." Irene turned her back to him, went to the brick hedge, and leaned on it with her hands.

Peter went to and stood next to her. "Okay, Irene, you win." He threw up his hands as a gesture of defeat. "I've always thought you were a loser and wondered why Nathan ever married you in the first place. Is that what you wanted to hear? Jeez." He ran a hand through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh.

"No," Irene replied angrily. "I wanted you to tell me that you would appreciate my help." She paused and added quietly, "That I was actually worth something to somebody."

Peter seemed not to hear her last statement. "I don't need your help…because I'm not going to rescue Hiro." Irene looked at him incredulously, but he waved it off. "Let the other Hiro take care of it. He's used to taking things into his own hands."

"How can you say that?" Irene shouted. "That's Niki talking, not you. Besides, Hiro is the only one who knows how to fix this and you're the only one who can save him now!" She shoved him a step backward. "If you don't save him, they'll kill him with their new "cure"…and we lose any chance of stopping Sylar in the past. And trust me, this future sucks."

Peter looked at her in utter shock. He had never seen her so aggressive. When he had first met her—when she had married Nathan—she was so quiet and submissive. She hardly ever smiled or spoke out of turn. Of course, he was never able to see her face to face after that because the Linderman Act was passed, restricting the movements and lives of evolved humans like him. She must have changed drastically over the past couple of years. What in the world could have caused her to become so passionate?

"Okay, okay," he held up his hands as a peaceful gesture. "Just calm down."

Irene nodded and took a deep breath to calm herself. "You're going to rescue Hiro," she said quietly. "And I'm coming with you."

"Why do you insist on coming with me? You're not part of this."

"Yes, I am." She gently rubbed her eyes and sighed. "Hiro is my friend, and I turned him in."

Peter frowned and crossed his arms. "Why would you do that?"

"That doesn't matter now. What _does_ matter is that I'm somewhat responsible for getting Past Hiro into this mess; I should at least help rescue him."

Peter nodded. "All right," he sighed quietly. He leaned closer to her his face becoming grave. "But even though I have all these abilities, I may not be able to protect you the whole time."

"I can take care of myself," she assured him. Peter still looked skeptical, but nodded and wrapped an arm around her. She never ceased to surprise him.

He screwed his eyes closed again. "There's no place like Texas," he whispered, and they disappeared.

XxxXxX

A/N: Don't worry, Peter/Niki or Paire fans, this will not end up a PeterOC pairing.


	5. There's No Place Like Texas

A/N: I hate to say it, but I'm getting close to the end here. This might actually be the first multi-chapter story to have been finished by me (that I've posted here, anyway)…how exciting! Please, don't hesitate to review. If I can add something or switch things around to make this story more complete, please let me know. I would much appreciate it.

XxXxXxX

_Primatech Paper Co., Midland, Texas_

Peter and Irene materialized in a deserted marble-floored corridor. The walls were completely bare, except for a drinking fountain a few paces on the right and the bulletin board above it. The news clippings on the board were several years old and focused particularly on the explosion. Florescent lights flickered in the ceiling above them, casting strange shadows over the darkly-clad Peter.

There was a single door at the end of the corridor; it led to the basement of the facility. Peter walked toward it, taking long strides that caused his black coat to sway behind him. Talk about tall, dark, and handsome. Irene smiled inwardly at the random thought.

"Why are we _here_?" she asked quietly.

"Our Hiro is here with Ando. I figured they'd want in on the action," he replied with a smirk.

Just as Peter opened the door, the sound of several sets of urgent footsteps floated down the hall. A man's voice was shouting instructions and accompanied the footsteps. "Parkman," Irene whispered.

"C'mon!" Peter urged, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her through the door and down the stairs.

Once it became apparent that Parkman would catch up to them, Peter and Irene stopped at a landing between sets of stairs and pressed themselves against the wall. Peter became invisible and gently touched Irene's arm so she would be invisible as well. "Keep quiet," Peter whispered. "Don't even breathe."

After a few moments, Parkman and his men stormed down the stairs and past the hidden pair. Suddenly, Parkman stopped in his tracks and threw up his fist to instruct his men to stop as well. He held his breath and strained his mind—as well as his ears—to listen.

_I'm coming, Parkman._

He began to grimace, as if it pained him to use his ability. He backtracked up the stairs and peered up towards the top of the stairwell. "What the hell?" he whispered to himself. He frantically shook his head to clear his thoughts and proceeded down the stairs.

Peter and Irene—still invisible—peeled themselves from the wall and followed Parkman's men. Irene almost had to jog in order to keep her hold on Peter. She wanted to ask him to slow down, but decided against it after remembering her conversation with him before they had teleported here.

Maybe it would have been better if she had not come with Peter. She didn't want to be a burden, and honestly, she really didn't have any helpful skills. Even her feminine wiles were out of practice. She was much better at working at a computer behind the scenes instead of having adventures in the field. It was only her heavy conscience that drove her here, not any special abilities like Peter's or Hiro's. She envied them sometimes, and those like them. They were special—they were better than the rest. Irene was just…Irene.

Suddenly, Irene slammed into Peter from behind. She had been so absorbed with her thoughts that she hadn't noticed he had stopped. "Sorry," she muttered, but Peter didn't seem to care. They were standing a few paces outside a glass-walled office. Hiro, Ando, Parkman, and his men were inside. Hiro lay unconscious in an armchair with Parkman standing over him. Ando was being held by another officer.

"Stay close," Peter whispered. Irene tightened her grip on his shoulder in reply. He stormed into the office, making them both visible, shoving an officer out of the way using his telekinesis, and stopping time—all in a matter of seconds.

Irene looked around her in wonder. The officer Peter had thrown lay suspended above the desk to her left. Several other officers had drawn their guns and were in the process of turning their bodies toward the disturbance. "Wow," she whispered. "This is cool."

Peter ignored her comment and looked at Parkman with a sneer. Parkman had his gun drawn as well, his face turned toward the door. Peter smirked, picked up Hiro's sword and handed it to Irene. "Hold this," he said. He laid his hands on Hiro and Ando and screwed his eyes shut.

XxXxXx

The group materialized in Peter's small loft in Las Vegas. Afternoon light crept into the room through the closed window curtains; Peter and Niki must have like their rooms to be dark. Without a word, Peter picked up the unconscious Hiro and laid him on a black leather couch nearby. Irene and Ando soon followed, both sitting in any available chair near the couch. Peter discarded his coat on a chair, took a deep breath, and rubbed his eyes.

"Are you okay, Peter?" Irene asked.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "That was a little harder than I expected. I don't think I'll ever get used to Hiro's ability." He shook his head to clear his mind and handed a blanket to Ando. He tilted his head slightly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Is it really you, Ando?"

Ando took the blanket from him and gave him a quizzical look. "Why does everyone keep saying that?" he asked with an exasperated sigh.

Peter lifted an eyebrow. "He didn't tell you?" He nodded toward Hiro. Ando shook his head. "Ando, you're…dead."

Ando's face fell. Irene felt bad for the poor guy. It was bad enough that he was stuck here without his Hiro, and now he finds out he's dead in this future—what a way to find out you're going to die.

"Between you and me," Peter said as he sat down in a leather chair opposite Irene and Ando. "You're the reason he wants to stop Sylar. He wants to save you."

The soft rustle of a door being opened wafted through the loft. "Baby, are you here?" Niki Sanders walked into the loft, dressed in a black silk robe over her dance costume; her long blonde ponytail swished behind her when she moved. Her demeanor suddenly turned sour when her eyes rested on Irene, Ando, and Hiro. She pressed her lips together in a thin line and stormed away to her room.

"I'll be back," Peter muttered. With a solemn face, he got up and went after Niki.

"That went well," Irene said and tried to smile. Ando rolled his eyes and sat down. He slouched in the chair, looking depressed and dejected. Irene handed Hiro's sword to him. "Here, Ando," she said. "You should probably hold this."

This was the first time Ando had actually noticed her presence. He looked at her quizzically as he took the sword from her and laid it across his lap. He was still boyishly cute—just as she remembered him. "How do you know me?"

"I'm Irene," she replied. "You saved me from Sylar—remember?"

Ando shook his head. "If I knew you, I'm sure I would remember, but I don't."

"Oh." Irene sat back into her chair and nodded. "You probably haven't gotten there yet."

Hiro began to stir. His eyes slowly opened and rested on Ando, who had unsheathed the sword halfway and was studying the blade. They began to converse quietly in Japanese; Irene still could not understand them, even though she had worked with Hiro for the last few years. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for one of them to acknowledge her presence.

Hiro finally noticed her and turned to her. He furrowed his brow slightly. "Irene? What are you doing here?"

"It's good to see you too, Hiro." She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to help rescue you…the other you…sort of…if I don't get in the way first." She shrugged. She sincerely hoped she could be of some use to them and not just a fifth wheel.

"You really shouldn't—" Hiro began to say, but Ando cut him off when Peter stormed back into the room.

"Is everything all right?" Ando asked and promptly stood. Hiro and Irene followed suit.

Peter snatched up his coat and swiftly strode past them. "No," he replied bitterly, his face very grave. "Let's go fix it."

Irene had a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that this was not going to end well.


	6. Behind the Scenes

A/N: Ahh! This may be the last chapter! …just kidding…it ain't the last chapter…it's the SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER! ...maybe…we'll see.

XxXXxX

_Homeland Security, New York City_,_ New York_

Alarm klaxons echoed through the building.

Irene unconsciously stepped closer toward Peter and looked around as security guards swarmed all around them. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear and took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Should we freeze time?" Hiro whispered to Peter.

Peter smirked and shook his head. "No. I haven't had a good fight in years."

Irene didn't like the sound of that. She did not want to be left behind the scenes again while the other guys had all the fun—at least Ando was there with her. Just then, when the brawl started, a thought struck her. "Behind the scenes," she whispered to herself.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for a computer terminal. She spotted one on the opposite side of the room. "C'mon! We need to find Hiro's cell." She grabbed Ando by the arm and pulled him along. Before they could get to the computer, however, a couple of security guards stepped in front of them, blocking their path.

"I'll handle this," Ando said proudly. He drew himself up to his full height and put his fists on his hips in a heroic pose. One of the security guards smirked and jabbed his partner with his elbow, encouraging him to do the same. They started laughing and advanced on Ando and Irene.

"Hey!" Irene hollered. "Do you have any idea who I am?" She planted her hands on her hips.

"Yes, ma'am," one of them answered. He was a middle-aged man with brown hair and a stubbly beard. "But we have our orders."

"What good is being the First Lady if I can't order anybody around?" she complained under her breath. She took a step back as the security guards gained more ground.

Without warning, Ando launched himself at the guards, effectively bringing one of them to the floor. The other guard ignored him and kept advancing on Irene. She looked all around, searching for a weapon she could use, but found nothing. Instead, she smiled and broke into a sprint. The guard darted after her, chasing her all over the lobby. Irene shrugged off her khaki jacket and threw it at his face, but he caught it and tossed it aside.

Irene ran a full circle around the lobby, finally seeing the computer come back into view. The guard noticed it too and attempted to cut her off. Irene tried to change direction, but stumbled over her own feet. The guard used this to his advantage; he caught her about the waist and wrestled her to the floor. He flipped her onto her stomach and forcefully held her arms behind her back.

She struggled under his weight and cried out for help. Suddenly, the guard fell to the floor next to her, unconscious. Irene turned over and saw Ando holding a gun by the barrel, looking quite proud of himself. He offered her a hand, which she took gratefully, and helped her to her feet.

They ran to the computer—unimpeded this time—and Irene quickly brought up the security camera feed. Her fingers danced over the black keys, her eyes scanning each video. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, causing her hands to shake violently. She was so hyper that she almost missed Hiro's feed. Ando shouted in Japanese and pointed at the screen.

"Okay, there he is," Irene said. She did a double take and looked at the screen again. "Is that Mohinder? Oh crap, that's not good." She read the camera label in the top right corner of the screen and then brought up a layout of the building. She quickly searched the map for the room being recorded by that camera. "Got it," she whispered triumphantly. "Let's go get Peter and Hiro," she said to Ando and pulled him along by the arm again.

Peter and Hiro met them by the security check-in desk, both looking solemn, but glad to have had another good fight. Neither of them seemed to have broken a sweat.

"Enjoy yourselves?" Irene asked.

Peter smirked. "Did you find Hiro?"

Irene nodded. "He's in room B-42 on the twelfth floor. It's used for storage."

"We need to take the Haitian out so the other Hiro can use his powers," Peter stated.

Ando's eyes widened. "But won't there be guards up there? With guns?"

Thinking quickly, Irene suggested, "You can use the service elevator over there." She pointed to an elevator at the end of a corridor on her right.

Peter smiled mischievously. He sprinted to the service elevator with the rest of the group in tow. Irene stayed behind for a moment, struck with another idea. She opened one of the main elevators, stepped inside and pressed the button for the twelfth floor before stepping out again. The doors slid closed, and Irene sprinted to catch up with the group.

"What did you do?" Hiro asked when she finally made it to the elevator.

"Created a distraction."

Hiro smiled and nodded. Irene smiled in reply, quite proud of herself for being somewhat useful.

"Someone needs to go up first and send for the rest of us when the coast is clear," Peter said. He looked at each face in the group with a solemn expression, ready to go up himself if needs be.

"I'll go," Hiro said resolutely. He opened the elevator and stepped inside, holding his sword in front of him parallel to his body. He drew himself up to his full height and took a deep breath. "Listen for my signal, Peter," he said quietly as the doors closed.

After a few minutes, Peter closed his eyes and tilted his head down. He furrowed his brow and drew in a sharp breath. He lifted his head after a few seconds and snapped his eyes open. "Let's go," he said darkly.

"That was fast," Irene muttered.

Because the elevator had not returned yet, Peter forced the doors open with his mind. "Hold on to me," he said. Irene wrapped her arms around his neck, and Ando took hold about his waist.

"We're ready," Ando said quietly.

Peter closed his eyes again and focused his mind on the ability he needed. He hovered a few feet above the floor and floated into the elevator shaft. With a sudden burst of strength, the trio flew up the shaft like a shot. Irene felt the air ripping at her hair and clothes. Her stomach flipped and flopped dozens of times, once threatening to lose its contents, but the adrenaline rush that comes with flying overcame her nausea. _I could get used to this_, she thought. _If I ever get out of this mess._

Peter began to slow his ascent; the elevator was blocking their path. Peter took Irene and Ando to the ladder on one side of the elevator shaft. After depositing them there, he focused his telekinesis and forced the elevator to the next floor up. He then forced the twelfth floor doors to open before retrieving Irene and Ando from the ladder. Together they stepped onto the twelfth floor. The entire corridor was white and eerily quiet.

"Go help Hiro, Peter," Irene urged. "We'll catch up." Peter nodded and sprinted down the corridor in front of the elevator doors. "C'mon, Ando." She beckoned for him to follow her.

Irene quietly stalked down the corridor, Ando following close behind. Suddenly, she backtracked and hid behind the previous bend, her heart pumping furiously within her chest. A few guards dressed in black S.W.A.T uniforms sped around the next corner from an intersecting corridor. After a few moments, Irene peeked around the bend to make sure the coast was clear. She put her finger to her lips to tell Ando to make sure to keep quiet, and then continued down the corridor.

The open door to B-42 finally became visible at the end of the corridor. The area around the door was littered with dead guards. Peter and Hiro were standing in the doorway, backs to the corridor. With a lighter heart, Irene broke into a sprint; Ando had no trouble keeping her pace—he passed her, in fact.

As Ando ran into the room, Peter stepped aside to let him through. Mohinder Suresh was there too, dressed in a brown suit and looking quite shaken; his glasses looked slightly askew. Irene frowned and sprinted faster.

She skidded to a stop in front of Mohinder and stared at him, mouth agape.

"Mrs. Petrelli?" he asked. "What on earth are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the ceremony?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I could ask the same about you, Dr. Suresh."

He ran his hand through his curly black hair and cast his gaze to the floor. "It's a long story."

Irene took a step closer to him and looked at the floor, trying to find the right words. "Mohinder, I—" She looked into his eyes before continuing. "I'm sorry…for everything."

"What are you—" Two loud gunshots cut him off. Matt Parkman advanced toward the door, gun drawn and smoking. Peter slammed and locked the metal door with his mind as Future Hiro slumped onto the ground; he had been shot.

"Oh my God," Irene whispered and knelt next to Hiro. Ando cradled him in his arms; Past Hiro stood slightly apart from them, caught in a daze at seeing his own death.

Without warning, a hand phased through the metal door and yanked Peter through it. "Peter!" Irene exclaimed and dashed to the door. She banged on it and called for Peter several times. A sudden blow to the door from the other side forced her back a few steps, almost knocking her over. Mohinder placed himself behind her to catch her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his dark eyes filled with concern.

Irene turned to him, and then back to the door; bright light was beginning to break through the crack around the edges. She looked again at Mohinder and smiled. She placed a hand on his cheek, caressing his beard and tracing his strong jaw line. "I love you, Mohinder," she whispered. "Marrying Sylar never changed that."

"What?"

Irene's expression saddened. "He threatened to kill you if I didn't marry him. I did it to protect you." Before Mohinder could reply, she pressed her lips to his and kissed him for all she was worth. For that moment, her life for the past three years was completely forgotten—no more bomb, no more Sylar, no more New York. No one else existed but her and Mohinder. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him.

"I love you too," he whispered.

A few paces away, Hiro and Ando vanished.


	7. Epilogue

A/N: Omg, it's the last chapter…the epilogue actually. I'm so excited that I'm almost done!

XxXxX

Ando had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that there was something he had forgotten. He looked at Hiro, whose solemn face reflected on the window pane in front of them, and then at the couple inside the apartment they were watching. Ando knew the man inside to be Sylar, but he didn't recognize the woman. She looked vaguely familiar—brown hair, long face, pointed nose.

She stormed into her bedroom and locked the door. Sylar went after her and began yelling at her through the door. His face suddenly became very grave, almost sad. He closed his eyes and leaned backward against the door. For a moment, Ando almost felt sorry for him, but then he remembered what Sylar was capable of.

"Go now, Hiro," he urged. "Do it when he's not expecting it."

"I cannot kill a man asking for forgiveness," Hiro replied quietly.

Ando pulled the 9th Wonders! comic out of his jacket pocket and showed it to Hiro. "Do you know where I am in the future?" He moved the comic closer to Hiro's face to emphasize his point. "I'm dead. Sylar kills me. And…" A sudden realization struck him. Now he remembered why the woman looked so familiar! He stared into the apartment for a moment in disbelief and then turned back to Hiro. "And we are supposed to save Irene."

"Who?" Hiro tilted his head to one side.

"Irene! The lady who helped us rescue you in the future. She's in there!" His expression became more animated, and he jabbed his forefinger toward the bedroom. "He's going to kill her if we don't save her!"

"Ando, I can't—"

"Hiro!" Ando glared and pressed his lips together in irritation. "He'll kill me too if you don't kill him first."

Hiro nodded, still unsure, but willing to trust his friend. Without a word, he grasped Ando by the shoulder and concentrated on teleporting into the room. Unfortunately, he overshot, and they appeared outside the apartment door. Hiro screwed his eyes shut and froze time around him and Ando.

Ando squeezed his shoulder. "Good luck, Hiro," he said with a small smile. Hiro nodded slightly and slowly opened the door to the apartment. There was Sylar, frozen in time and leaning forward to catch Irene. Irene was frozen too and in the process of falling; a pair of larger silver scissors protruded from her abdomen, and her hands were covered in blood. Pain and horror were written all over her face.

Hiro gulped and positioned the blade of his sword on Sylar's neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered and raised the sword, poised to strike. As he brought the blade down, however, his anxiety caused him to lose control over his power. Both he and Ando fell back into regular time. Before Hiro had a chance to react, Sylar caught the sword by the blade and glared at him. His gaze was cruel and full of hatred, causing Hiro to lose all confidence in himself.

Ando darted to Irene and caught her in his arms before she hit the ground.

"Go ahead. Kill me!" Sylar bellowed. Hiro, inwardly shaking with fear, tried to force the sword into Sylar, but Sylar's grip held strong and his ice ability froze the sword to his hand. "You can't! Coward!"

"Hiro!" Ando cried. Thinking quickly, Hiro grabbed Ando's shoulder and screwed his eyes shut.

Before Sylar could react, Hiro, Ando, and Irene disappeared.

**The End.**

XxXxXx

A/N: Now, go check out "My Gabriel, Not You." I'll be updating it soon.

A/N (5/16): For the most part, this story is finished. You might want to go back and read through it again because I've revised it and added some more stuff to make it more complete. Please give it a good read-through and give me some constructive feedback. I am willing to do whatever it takes—within reason—to make this story better.


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